


Piratey Things

by jillyfae



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Humor, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 22:18:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jillyfae/pseuds/jillyfae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The very best partner was the one who knew just when to surprise you, and just when to be surprised.  </p><p>An appreciation of fine hats was also highly desirable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Piratey Things

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Pirate King](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/25437) by askbroodyelf. 



> Originally written for [askbroodyelf's](http://askbroodyelf.tumblr.com/post/31731317168/jillyfae-isabela-was-rather-surprised-he-didnt) fanfic contest; inspired by this gorgeous piece of artwork.
> 
>  

Isabela was rather surprised he didn't disappear the first time she grinned and mouthed "shopping!" at him.

Fenris wasn't the fidgeting type, but it was still impressive how calm he seemed, leaning against a bare patch of wall between shelves, watching her admire leather-work or metal-work or the edge on a blade or the heel of a boot, the hint of a half-smile lifting one corner of his mouth.

His eyes widened a bit when she stopped shopping for pirate-y things and started looking at womanly things, bodices and dresses and lace.

He seemed to enjoy the idea of the lace though, once he adjusted.

And then there were the hats.

She never actually wore any, but hats, hats were the  _best_.  Shopping for hats was her favorite of all favorites, floppy brims and giant feathers and leather and felt and flowers and Orlesian monstrosities with birds and castles and cages going halfway to the ceiling.

Most of the milliners rolled their eyes whenever she appeared.

Sometimes she ignored them.  Sometimes she stuck out her tongue.  Sometimes she insisted on being the worst customer ever, ranting and shouting and stomping around for  _hours._

Just because she tried on almost every single one and never bought anything was no reason to be  _rude_.  It's not like she stole anything.

And she could.

It would be so easy.

Which was probably the only reason she didn't bother.

Easy was boring.

Fenris, though.

Fenris was never boring.  

Fenris was frequently surprising.  

Especially when that half-smile of his reappeared as he gently tugged on a giant feather, running the smooth line of the barbs between his fingers, over and over again.

So of course she bought the hat.

He had good taste in hats.

He had good taste in lots of things.  He liked her, after all.

_Oh, I'm funny, yes I am._

He even laughed when she trailed along after him the rest of the day, calling him her Pirate King and batting her eyelashes at him.

He kept it on, later, when she asked.  Though he insisted she keep her boots on too, enjoying the feel of leather against his skin when she wrapped her thighs around his hips.

It was hard, and hot, and fast, her back pressed to the cool glass of a window, the sill a sharp line under her ass, his hands sliding up her sides and down to her hips, holding her in place as he filled her up, the slide of skin and slick and heat until she clenched and he tensed, mutually shivering and groaning their release.

Usually that was enough for the both of them, and she'd wander off to leave him to his wine and the darkness of the sky between the stars through the hole in his roof.

But tonight he offered that smile again.

So she stayed.

Peeled herself slowly free of her scarf and boots and jewelry.

Smiled as he found a statue to wear his hat while they were busy.

Felt that smile widen, her stomach tighten as she laughed, when he pulled one giant feather free.

He moved it slowly against her skin, slow enough it soothed rather than tickled, tracing each curve, pausing at scars and joints, offering a kiss or a lick or the soft brush of a finger along with the feather.

She'd done the same for him, once, tracing her fingers and tongue beside his scars, careful never to touch the white lines themselves, teasing the skin between them instead.

He had such good skin.

It was such a privilege, to get to touch it.  She'd never get tired of it.

Never get tired of any of it.

Of his hands, as he slid one finger inside her, then two, curving up, stroking, teasing, until she could hear each gasp of her breath as it escaped her mouth.

Of his mouth, as he leaned in to kiss her, swallowing the keen that was building in her chest.

Of his eyes, as he rolled them both until he was flat on the bed, watching her as she straddled him, watching her face and her body and her breasts, everything, all at once, dark and serious, each flicker of lid or lashes as good as a caress.

Of his cock as she lowered herself on him, rolled her hips to feel him rub inside her.

Of his strength as he bucked up beneath her, lifting her half off the bed and pushing himself even deeper.

Of his voice, that glorious rasp that she felt all the way up her spine when he said her name, when he growled, wordless and perfect, as she tightened and shifted around him.

Of him, all of him, as they pushed each other over the edge, a shudder and a sigh, mingled breath and the soft touch of his lips as she leaned down to kiss him.

She realized, when they sprawled across the bed afterwards, listening to each other breathe, feeling the shift of air against cooling skin, that she'd meant it.  

Her Pirate King.

She hoped he 'd come with, when the call of the sea became too much, and she left Kirkwall behind for the shift of a deck beneath her feet.

A whole new adventure, that.

Certainly wouldn't be boring.


End file.
